Thief

Waiting for midnight,
summer's backlit sky comes clear
as the stars begin their romance in the new moon's care.
Here, in the warm distraction of conscious thought,
provoked
to cast my eye to moments long past,
I'm an open book.

When I was a dying thief,
I saw a shade of me

pacing deserted highways,
flagging for a ride
in hopes of better company than the passing time.
Along came a weathered traveler whose words were fresh to me.
"You may be wondering how you got here.
So, listen now, to me,

for I was dying a dying thief and I saw a shade of me

reaching out to a faceless man.
Alone
and desperate,
I was crying out to God,
Come save me,
but I never heard myself.
Yet I know He heard me,
for here I am.

I was a dying thief and I saw the shade of me."